Stay
by SarahsaDork
Summary: Songfic. Riley wakes every morning to find himself in bed with Ben, but the other never stays for long and he's had enough. Warning: Slash and cursing. Ben/Riley, Ben/Abigail


Done for a challenge over at LJ, all the cool kids are doing it.

Song is 'Stay' by Sugarland, just thought it would make a good story. Also, did not realize how long and repetitive the song is, so I cut out a chorus, and just to be annoying I put () around where I cut the song to.

PS the story ends up moving from Riley to Ben, the number 1 will represent this. I know I just have to be so difficult.

Disclaimer: I own neither National Treasure nor 'Stay'

* * *

_I've been sitting here staring at the clock on the wall_

Watching the clock slowly change has never been one of his favorite past times, this time is no exception, and as the clock edges closer to 5:30, he begs that for once the other will stay. He knows that it's wrong to wish this, to do what he does, but he can't help it, he just cares too much. He never would have guessed that he'd fall this hard for another guy, especially his best friend, but he did.

Closing his deep blue eyes, he lets out a heavy breath through his nose and he feels the spot on the bed next to him shift. In a few moments the warmth beside him will be gone, and he'll be left alone, kicking himself for allowing this to go on like it does.

A second later, the muffled sound of a watch alarm going off sounds, and the body that was pressed against him a moment ago is gone. The other doesn't know that he's awake, but he is, just like every other morning that starts this way. He can hear the soft tread of feet moving towards the bathroom of the small dark apartment, and he knows that in a moment the shower will start, and that it won't be long before he's left sitting alone in the silence that plagues him nearly every dawn, pleading that this won't go on, that the other will choose him.

_And I've been laying here praying, praying she won't call_

He enters the kitchen of the clustered apartment and fixes himself a bowl of sugarcoated cereal. Without glancing at the other figure standing by the now steaming coffee maker, he sits down at the round wooden table, staring intently at the marshmallows sadly floating in the last of his 2 milk. It's not every morning that the other stays for breakfast, and he knows that before long the other's cell phone will ring, and it will be the woman that keeps the two lovers apart. He hates himself every time that phone rings, every time that woman's voice is heard, every time that it is proven to him that he comes second.

He Shifts his gaze to the older man before him, the man with the slowly thinning brown hair and dazzling blue eyes that won his heart upon their first meeting. He counts down the seconds until the irritating sound of Fur Elise fills the cramped room.

1…2…3…4 _**ring**_

She's earlier than usual, most days he reaches 30 before the warped version of Beethoven's masterpiece sounds. He knows what's coming next. He prays silently, hoping with all his heart that the other won't listen to her, that the older man will sit down for breakfast. It never happens, and he knows that nothing will make this morning any different from the others.

_Its just another call from home, you get it and be gone and I'll be crying_

"Ben darling where are you?" the small, tired voice coming from the other end of the phone can be heard from where he's seated a short distance away.

The subtle German accent plays over and over again in his mind; he can imagine the shocked and outraged list of courses that would roll off the blonde's lips if she ever found out where her husband really went most nights. He wonders how long it will be before the weak excuse of 'I was working late and stayed at my dad's because I didn't want to wake you' fails and the truth finally comes out.

The milk has turned a mild shade of pink now, as the taller man hangs up the phone, sighing. He keeps his eyes locked on the lone marshmallow drowning in his milk. He knows that if he looks up the other will see his tears, the hated tears that show how weak he is, the tears that just prove to him over and over again why he'll always come second, the tears that tell him he has lost.

"Abigail wants me to come home Riley, I'm sorry. Last night was amazing, and I promise that soon we can be together." Leaning over, the other kisses him gently on the cheek, not noticing, or choosing to ignore, how his body tenses up.

_I'll be begging you baby, beg you not to leave_

He hears the door to the apartment open in the next room followed by his own voice, shouting at the other to stop. He drops his spoon with a clatter and dashes for the man who repeatedly breaks his heart, pleading with him to stay.

"Ben please, just stay. Tell her that you have to go away for a presentation, or to go find Bigfoot! Anything! You just can't…leave." He finishes lamely as the other just sadly shakes his head.

"Ri, I would if I could, but I can't just leave my wife, I made a promise to be with her." The other squeezes the shorter man's shoulder in sympathy, but it is quickly shrugged off.

"What about the promise you made to me Ben? Am I just some…booty call to you? If you love her so much, than why do I find myself with you every morning? Why do you never wake up next to Abigail, next to your_ wife?_ If you love her so much why the fuck do you keep coming back to me! Just stay for once dammit!"

_But I'll be left here waiting with my heart on my sleeve for the next time we'll be here, seems like a million years and I think I'm dying_

His pleas are answered with the closing of the front door and the painful emptiness of his apartment. At this moment he hates the other with all of his heart, but at the same time he wants nothing more than to see that face one more time, to hear that deep, matured voice tell him how much he's loved and that he matters more than anything else in the world.

The silent tears have returned full-force and stream down his face, dripping off his chin. Wiping them away in vain, he gets up off his knees and makes his way to the tiny bathroom. He looks into the mirror, scrubbing roughly at his face to rid it of the still-falling tears.

Why must he be so weak? He had made a promise to himself when he was younger and he lost his brother never to care about anyone, caring led to pain that never left, but this time he couldn't work up the strength to push the other man away. Whenever the other came around, his walls that were so carefully crafted over the years collapse and he finds himself revealing everything to the treasure-hunting historian. He can't understand why the other makes him feel so warm and safe when his heart is just ripped to pieces the next day, but he always does and he's always left upset and alone, waiting for the next time there's a knock on his door, for the next time they'll be together.

_What do I have to do to make you see, she can't love you like me_

He can't stand it, when the three of them are together, the other never looks happy with her, but with him the smile seems to be permanently stuck on that gently aged face. He knows that the other loves him more, but at the same time he knows that they will never really be together, that _she_ will always win. He's tried to show the historian that he is the better choice, that with him their lives will be perfect and they'll always be happy, but no matter how many times he pulls the puppy dog eyes or his lower lip sticks out sadly begging, he can never manage to get through to the man who just smiles and rolls his eyes.

Every night they spend together he tries his best to convince the other that he's the better choice, every night he gives up his whole heart to the one man he really cares about. He puts his whole mind, body and soul into the passion-filled evenings they share, proving over and over again how much he loves the other, and those nights he's fooled into thinking he's loved just as much, those nights he's confident that he's the better lover and that the two of them will spend the rest of their lives together.

_Why don't you stay?_

Several days have past and he's yet to leave his apartment, each night is spent typing and searching endlessly for signs of a new treasure, anything really to get his mind of the other, or to find a reason for them to be around each other. Just as the he stops for the evening, rubbing the bridge of his nose a knock at the door is heard and there is no doubt of who it is.

Sighing and dusting the crumbs from his late dinner off his shirt, he makes his way to the front door, opening it to silently let the other in as he leads the way to his dark bedroom, the other trailing behind him with a hint of alcohol on his breath. The slightly buzzed man closes the door behind them and approaches him; running long, gentle fingers through his unruly brown hair, leaning in for a sloppy, yet soft kiss. As the other presses him down onto the unmade bed, unclothing his upper body, he comes up with a plan to make the other stay.

"Ben stop" there is a halt in the roaming hands as the older man gazes into his deep blue eyes.

"Hush Riley, whatever it is, it can wait until later, I need this, we both need this." The hands go back to their previous action of disrobing him, but they are quickly pushed away.

"No Ben, it can't wait and you may need this, but I need something else. You have the power to convince me that anything is true, you could tell me that the sky was green and I'd believe you, but what I _need_ is for you to convince me why we should keep doing this. I need you to convince me that I'm more than just the piece of ass you go to when Abigail won't give it up."

The historian lets out a heavy breath, "Ri, I'd never lie to you, I love you more than anything and want to be with you forever."

The other never was a good liar, and with a half-believing, half-hoping heart, he lets the other man's actions continue. Soon both of them are lost in the touch and heat of each other's body and they are oblivious to the world surrounding them.

_I'm down on my knees_

Around four he feels the part of the bed beside him shift and a weight being lifted, his eyes spring open as he realizes what's going on. The other is leaving him, without so much as a good bye. Mind still fuzzy from sleep, he stumbles out of bed as he hears the bedroom door being closed softly. Flinging the door open, he nearly tackles the older man to the ground in his urgency. As he falls to his knees, begging the treasure hunter to stay, he wonders why it always has to come to this, why he can't just let the other go in the morning.

_I'm so tired of being lonely; don't I give you what you need?_

He knows exactly why he reacts this way, he just cannot stand being abandoned any more, having it proven to him almost everyday that he's not capable of someone else's love. There is nothing that he wouldn't give up to be with the older historian, when the two were together all of his worries and fears left, and for once he didn't feel so alone in the world; he felt like he was worth something. He thought that his love was enough, and if not his love, all of the faith and belief he had in the other, he had never, and would never, turn his back on the man who had claimed his heart. But why couldn't that favor be returned?

He was tired of being the third wheel, tired of being forgotten, tired of always being an after thought. He just wanted to be loved like no other, to be happy for the rest of his life, and he thought he had found what he was looking for in the other man. Was he wrong?

_When she calls you to go, there is one thing you should know: we don't have to live this way_

That damned phone. That damned ringer. That damned woman. Why does she always have the final word? Their lives would be perfect if it were not for here, they wouldn't have to live their lives like this if she was not around. Without her they could be open about their relationship, they could spend the whole day together and not just forbidden nights. There really was no reason the other couldn't stay; he cannot understand why his lover always bends to her every whim, didn't the other understand how much pain he goes through every time that phone rings? The elder brunette could figure out near impossible clues in five minutes, now why couldn't that same man figure out the plain signs of love and welcome right in front of him every day?

_Baby why don't you stay?_

Again he is left standing in his doorway, watching the other walk down the hallway to the stairwell. He was alone. He had used the word stay more than a million times in the last five minutes, and he knows that each time that simple word left his mouth, it was completely ignored.

_You keep telling me baby, there will come a time when you will leave her arms and forever be in mine_

Another morning and the two are sat down at the small kitchen table, eating breakfast like civilized human beings. This may be the longest time the two have spent together. He's clad only in his boxers, consuming slightly-frozen waffles and he cannot help but glance up every few minutes at the equally silent man sitting across from him eating bland cereal and sipping coffee, contently reading the paper. As each minute passes, he wonders when that blasted phone will ring, but as another five minutes pass, he thinks maybe it will not come this morning.

They finish up with their silent meals and the older man places their dishes in the sink and takes hold of his hand, leading him to the couch in the next room. As they sit down in front of the television, the historian pulls him closer, wrapping a warm arm around his shoulder, gently pulling him into the cotton robe covered chest. He feels calm, loved and happy and in the moment, life is how it should be.

"I love spending the morning with you." The tall brunette whispers into his ear only an inch away. Shivers race down his spine and his only response is a soft hum. "I'm sorry Ri, sorry that we can't be like this more often, but I promise that we will be happily together soon." It wasn't the first time he was told this, but with how the morning was going, he fully believed what the other said. As the historian went off on a long story regarding figures of love in the Roman world, he closes his eyes and drifts off in a doze listening to the soft humming sounds coming from the chest he is happily pressed up against as the other speaks in a low tone.

_But I don't think that's the truth, and I don't like being used and I'm tired of waiting_

He wakes an hour later, alone. There is a note on the coffee table, which he crumples up without glancing at what is scrawled across the paper in rushed writing, and throws it into the garbage. He had hoped what the other said was the truth, but deep down inside he knew that it was just another pitiful lie. He can't stand being left like this anymore, can't stand hearing that four letter lie. One can only wait for so long, and his patience is wearing thin. Why must he be used like this, and how can he let it go on? He finally has had enough, this he knows, but it may take some time to convince the heavy heart in his chest of his decision.

_It's too much pain to have to bare, to love a man you have to share_

It was a simply beautiful night, there was a ball held for charity where only some of the wealthiest and most famous historians could attend. The three treasure hunters had been invited of coarse, and he had grudgingly accepted the invitation. The whole night was spent with the taller man's arm around his beautiful wife and him shoved off into some corner of the room alone. He seemed to be in that situation a lot, and he hadn't realized how loathsome that word happened to be until then. Alone. All the other attendees where chattering merrily with one another, while he sulked from a far table, nursing a glass of alcohol.

It wasn't fair, no one should have to share the person they love. He can't help but hate himself as he looks on at the happy couple and thinks about her. The beautiful, blonde German-American had no idea what her husband did at night, had no idea where he was and who he was with. He couldn't stand being left for someone else, but he could no longer bear knowing the truth as the innocent blonde went along loving her wonderful, faithful husband.

_(I can't take it any longer, but my will is getting stronger)_

He leaves the ball in a rush, with hasty good-byes and thank-yous. As he reaches his dark apartment, he slams the door behind him. He can't be the one to keep that beautiful woman from her loving husband, he was foolish enough to believe that she was the one keeping them apart, but it has just sunken in how terrible of a person he has become. In his rage and heartbreak he kicks over the coffee table near the couch, flinging papers and wires everywhere. Their relationship wasn't meant to be, and he cannot let the lie he's been living go on anymore, though it may hurt more than when the Charlotte blew up while he was still inside, he knows what he has to do.

_And I think I know just what I have to do_

Already thinking of what to say, he turns back to his door to find the man he thought he loved. Throwing open the door, he stops suddenly as he comes face to face with the man he was just leaving to see. Seeing his pause as a welcome, the older man removes his coat and moves towards the bedroom but is halted by a firm hand around his forearm. The man turns to look at him and is met with eyes of despair and outrage.

"I can't do this anymore Ben, we're done." The other just continues to stare into his dark, clear eyes.

"Ri, come on I know you're upset I'll make it up to yo-"

"No! I've had enough of you, enough of your boring history lessons, enough of your receding hairline and enough of your lies. Ian was right, you can't bluff. Get out of my house," he quickly continues as he sees the other's mouth open to respond, "I don't care where you go, steal the Magna Carter or something for all I care, or go bring George Washington back to life with your amazing knowledge, just get out. I can't do this anymore."

He lets out a deep breath but holds his ground as the other stares at him with eyes full of hurt and confusion and he can't help but feel a little bitter at the tears in the eyes of the one who has caused him so much grief. Without a word, the historian moves his gaze to the floor and leaves the small apartment, hesitating briefly in the doorway, but quickly retreats down the hallway to the elevator.

_I can't waist another minute, after all that I put in it_

Three days have past since his revelation and the other has yet to stop calling. He refuses to answer the other's calls, already knowing the prepared apology and the begging that will ensue by heart, the older man really never was that original. He's had enough beggings for a lifetime. It's his time to make the calls in the relationship, and he can't think of a better way to make him happy than by riding himself of the one man who has stolen his heart and treated it like crap. Glaring at the phone that once again has interrupted the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, he continues to ignore the whining sounds of the electronic device, refusing to give in to the other's pleas. It's about time that the older man got a taste of his own medicine. No matter how much his heart pleaded with him to pick up the phone and forgive the other, he forces himself to stay strong; he has gone too far to give up.

_I've given you my best why, does she get the best of you?_

Not a week has past since he called off the routine hook-ups and the other is already at his door. Opening the door with a frustrated sigh he gives the other a bored look and walks way to sit on his couch. The taller man cautiously enters the room and seats himself on the opposite side of the couch. He doesn't speak, refusing to initiate the painful conversation that is sure to come, and stares unblinkingly at the cartoons still playing on his flat-screen television. The other man lets out a pained sigh and opens his mouth several times, trying to find the right words. They don't come easily.

Finally the words come. He listens to what the other has to say, but keeps his gaze locked on the bright colors being emitted from the device before them.

"I was wrong." He's slightly shocked by the softly uttered words, but still refuses to look at the older treasure-hunter. "I should have treated you more like a human, more like a friend. I'm so sorry for what I did, and I'd do anything to make it up to you Ri."

"Don't call me that." He barks back, shooting a brief but deadly glare at the man sitting at his side. He never was fond of that nickname, and he hated it even more now, that word for a nasty type of bread, he couldn't stand to hear it said again by the man who broke his heart.

"Bu-" The other stops but quickly shuts his mouth. "I knew that you'd still be mad, so I'll just wait for you to come around, I'm willing to wait forever. I love you Riley."

"Then I guess that is something that we have entirely different opinions about. See Ben, you may be able to wait, but I'm tired of waiting. I've waited forever to be with just you, I gave you the best of me, and what was I given in return? Nothing. Just go back to Abigail, you don't even deserve her but you seem to somehow make her happy. Go back to your wife and leave me alone." His cold voice makes the other cringe, and it surprisingly makes him feel great. He's waited forever for the other's love, and if he can't have it then he could at least make the man suffer like he does nightly.

_So the Next time you find, you want to leave her bed for mine, why don't you stay?_

(1) He can't seem to move on, to give up on that short, sarcastic computer geek. He misses the nights they used to share and their friendship before everything became so confusing. The younger man had a strong hold on his heart, but he ruined everything by pushing their relationship further than friendship, he loved the way the younger man felt pressed up against him at night, but he couldn't bring himself to only be with the small brunette. The truth was, he couldn't let go of his wife, his love for her was stronger than anything he'd ever felt before and he didn't want to lose that feeling. He never was good at keeping strong relationships, and now he saw why.

He's wanted to return to the younger man's bed, but he can't stand to see the hurt in those deep blue eyes anymore. Every time he awoke to find himself in a bed that did not belong to him, he ached to stay but part of him said that he needed to return to his wife, the woman he promised to be with forever. When he found himself in that situation the computer whiz always said the same thing: Stay. That word never seemed to have such a strong meaning until the other man left, now he wishes he did, but more importantly, he wishes he had stayed somewhere else…home.

_I'm up off my knees; I'm so tired of being lonely; you can't give me what I need. When she begs you not to go, there's just one thing you should know: I don't have to live this way_

He can't help but kick himself now. Those nights he ended up in the younger man's bed, his heart broke for two reasons. One, he knew he'd end up hurting the treasure-hunting techie the next morning; and two, she always begged him not to go, to just stay home and spend the night together, to wake up happy and in love the next morning. She begged for him to stay just as much as the other. Both needed his love, both left heartbroken without him. Neither of them should have to live that way, she deserved the best husband in the world, someone who could give her their full attention, but he wasn't that guy. And the other man deserved someone who loved him like no other, someone who gave nothing but love and respect; he also was not that guy. His selfishness hurt the two people in the world he cared most for, and in the end he was the one left alone in shame and pain.

_Baby why don't you stay?_

"Ben, where are you going?" comes her sleepy murmur. The historian turns to his wife from his position by the bedroom door and walks back to the blonde now sitting up in the previously filled king sized bed.

Crawling under the covers he kisses his wife's cheek, whispering softly, "Nowhere."


End file.
